The Life of Rosemary Mellark
by LexiAnne
Summary: After fifteen years of asking on Peeta's part, our favorite couple decides to have a baby. They name her Rosemary, in honor of Primrose Everdeen. As Rosemary gets older she begins to ask questions, questions her parents can't answer without losing it. She sets out to discover her parents troubling pasts, but all is not what it seems in Panem (hint, hint...).
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the world of the Hunger Games, and many of the characters in this story. They belong to the lovely Suzanne Collins!**

Chapter One

I can hear them when I sleep, but I don't think they know. So I just lie in my bed and listen. My father murmuring words to my mother, her scared breaths. Then it all goes silent. I wonder what happened, what really happened, to cause these nightly epidemics. The only explanation I've ever received was so fluffed up, it was close to being a lie.

I roll onto my back and look up at my ceiling. It's painted a midnight blue and used to have little stars hanging from it. I took them down. The rest of the bedroom is fairly simple, with the exception of a few Capital gadgets and what not. I hear something, probably a door opening up.

" Dad?" I ask. I can't bear it anymore, not knowing.

" Rose, aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

" I can't," I respond blankly.

" What's wrong?" he questions, his voice threaded with worry.

" I should be asking you that," I mumble. His blue eyes dart up at me, from their spot on the ground. They're filled with hope, worry, and sorrow so deep it makes my heart ache.

" I'll see you in the morning, Rosemary," he say's and closes the door.

That night I have trouble sleeping. Colorful visions cloud my thoughts. I can still hear the mumbling, panicked voice my mother has when she remembers, still see the way my fathers eyes squeeze shut when he's having another spell. I know whats happened after, but why can't they tell me the story of before?

When morning comes I am filled with the smell of blueberry pancakes. It drifts all the way up here, temporarily making me forget the problem at hand. That was probably the intention, I think.

I swing my legs around, and stand up, grabbing my ivory dressing gown from it's designated spot on the floor. Puckering my lips together I check my reflection in the mirror, and run a brush through my wavy blond hair. Once satisfied I trot downstairs. We live in one of the large Victor Village homes, which barely have any residents. However 'Uncle Haymitch' lives next door where he is happy to spend his days getting wasted and tending to his Persian cat, Meow. Sometimes I stop by to see him, but he's too drunk to tell me anything, so I've given up.

My parents seem more sullen at breakfast than usual. Mum pushes her food around the plate, and Dad eats very, very slowly. It's painful to watch.

" Rose..." my mother says, her voice trailing of into the distance. She stares at the ground, as if contemplating what to say. " A few years ago we had something called the Hunger Games. It was to remind the districts of the previous rebellion's cost, and to provide entertainment for the Capital. In the Games children fought to the death, and the last person alive would be crowned the winner.

Both your father and I took part in the 74th Hunger Games. They unleashed fires and tracker jacker venom on us to make it more interesting to watch. During the Games I became ally's with a little girl named Rue..." she pauses, swallowing a cry. The whole thing sounds very monotoned, very speech like. She's probably said this before, to crowds and audiences. I may not know what happened during these so called 'Games', but I know my mother's famous.

She's frozen now and breathing into my fathers shoulder. His hands rub her back, and slowly it stops. Her heart rate becomes less intense and her whole body relaxes. Determined to continue, she lifts her head up and catches my eyes with hers. They're a stormy gray color, similar to mine, but harder.

" Rue and I became ally's, but one of the other tributes shot her. That's when they announced that there could be two winners from the same district, not just one, so I sought out your father. His leg was badly injured and I tried to take care of him, but we didn't have the resources to do much else. I waited with him, and eventually fell in love with him," she pauses and my father smiles at her. " But the final battles had yet to come. We defeated the last tribute, Cato, and waited to be crowned victors. Only that didn't happen because they had changed the previous rule. As an act of rebellion your father and I threatened to take poisonous berries at the same time, so the Capital wouldn't have a winner. They weren't happy with us, but crowned us winners anyway," she finishes.

" But that's not all of it!" I protest. And it's still pretty fluffy, although it's better than the version I got last time.

She smiles at me, as if to say _that's it for today. _My thirteen year old mind is too ambitious, and desperately wants to learn more.

_ Time to do some hunting_, I think.

**Authors Note: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I'd always wondered what Katniss and Peeta's child would be like, so I decided to create Rosemary. I know that the girl is supposed to have brown hair and blue eyes, but I decided to switch it up. Also I'm aware there is supposed to be a boy as well, but the for the direction of this story let's just say that he died a tragic death after a bad fight with a unicorn:) I'd love it if you'd leave me an honest review (I really want to hear what you think! Tell the me the truth.) , but please don't be rude. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! I spent all last night writing this, and I just finished revising it, so that's why it's up later than planned ( I hoped for the morning). Thank you to MeMyself-and-1, FRESHiceCREAMhYuNa, and Keb85 for following my story. Enjoy!**

Chapter Two

I'm sitting in the woods, playing with a yard of rope like my mother taught me. It never occurred to me how she may have learned this skill. I sit back against the rock, the sharp edges pushing into my skin, and sigh. I'm never going to learn the full story, at least not from my parents. I don't really know anyone else, except for Astrid, but she moved to the Capital with her family.

I have no clue why I feel such a strong need for this knowledge. My parents seem pretty shaken from this mornings little spiel. They didn't even notice when I left like they usually do. Before I went I peeked into their bedroom, only to spot my mother in fetal position, with my father not faring any better. It hurts to see them like this, looking so helpless. No matter how many times they fell of the ladder, I always thought my parents were invincible. Now I'm not so sure.

I get up and gather my bag of strawberries as well as my sack, dusting the dirt off my pants. The lake is just a short way from here. The walk there is pleasant, and I spot several Mockingjay's perched on the high branches of the trees. I whistle a few notes to them, and they whistle back. Once I found a beautiful, golden Mockingjay pin in my mothers jewelry chest, while playing dress up. She caught me looking at it, and scowled when I asked to put it on. _That's not for you,_she had said.

By the time I reach the lake, I've already started stripping my clothes off to reveal a neon pink bikini one of my mother's old friends sent me. Not wasting a second, I dive in, and feel the cool water surrounding me. A pod of tadpoles darts by my feet and I smile. Mother's been taking me up here since I was just a little one myself. The water feels natural, safe. It's one of the few places I can think clearly. I crawl up to the shallow waters and sit down, my bottoms undeniably muddy. I still can't work my way through the cloud in my head, and moan in frustration.

A rustle of leaves, undeniably the sound of footsteps, brings me to alertness. I am completely in the open with no way of hiding. It's not much longer before I come face to face with the person behind the mystery. The face is worn and weathered but definitely attractive. Raven black hair frame his face, and he share's the same eyes as mine and my mother's. I vaguely remember him, but he looks like the rest of District Twelve. I'm not putting my trust into a single, flittering memory.

Instinct takes over, and I stuff my clothes into my sack and run, bag of strawberries forgotten. The grass molds into my feet as I dart between trees, letting nothing stop me. I can run faster than my mother now. A vision plays in front of my mind, a story of a little girl who could jump through trees like a monkey. My mother told it to me when I was little. I wonder if that girl is real. I wonder if she still exists.

" Rose!" I hear and my head flips around. The man has stopped, panting and out of breath, just a few feet behind me. " Faster than her mother," I hear him mumble. The reference to my mother startles me enough that I slow my pace ever so lightly. Who is this man, and what is his connection to my mother? I come up with the best explanation, the one that will keep me alive. I let fear stream through my blood. _Enemy. _My mother once told me she had many. This man must be one of them.

I push myself to go faster and faster, until I too am panting and out of breath. The strange man and District Twelve are far behind me now. Satisfied, I clamber up the tallest tree I can find and pick a branch, examining the contents of my pack. Bandages, an apple, dried hazelnuts, a bottle of water, a rope, and a sleeping pack. I unravel the sleeping pack and tie it to the tree, nibbling on the dried hazelnuts, and drinking some of the water. After examining the area to the best of my ability, I fall asleep in the crook of nature's arm.

The sun rises, spreading it's light across the world. I know I must go home today. My parents are probably worried out of their overprotective minds. I wince at the thought of the lecture I'm going to get.

_ "Rosemary, look at me," my mother says. I huff and raise my eyes to hers. " What do we know about the woods?" _

_ " We have to be careful," I squeak. _

_ My father walks over and picks me up. I wrap my chubby little arms around his neck, which earns me a small smile. _

_ " What happens if we get lost due to carelessness?" he asks, rocking me back and forth. _

_ " Bad. Bad. Bad," I respond, content to just lie in his arms and have him rock me back and forth. My father has always been more patient, kinder, than my mother. Her love is different, harder, but love nonetheless. _

The memory fades, as they often do. Pictures, flashes of what used to be. They are often stronger than the present, I think, remembering my parents.

" Hey!" the voice floats up to where I sit. I look down and my eyes meet that of a stranger. The same one from yesterday. His voice is kind, though, and glues me in place. There is something about him, something I can't pinpoint, that makes me trust him.

" How do you know my name?"

" I knew your mother, a long, long, time ago," he answers.

" How?" I can't help myself, this person is one step closer to digging up a grave my parents have long since buried.

He smiles, " We were hunter partners. She was my best friend, leader of the war effort, and lover of Peeta Mellark. Although I suppose you already knew that."

" No I didn't."

The look he gives me is part shock, part curiosity, "Why don't you come down?"

I scramble from the tree, sack in hand, until I reach the last branch. There I perch, like a bird, ready to listen.

" Are she and Peeta still..."

" Together?" I finish with a laugh. " Of course, unless they've broken up in the past few hours, which from the way they act around each other is highly unlikely. The only thing I didn't understand was the whole war effort thing. And you. If you're her best friend, why haven't I seen you?"

" We went separate ways, after... what happened," he grimaces at the last part. I'm sick of the what happened's, the after's, and the strange answers everyone's been giving me.

" So what happened?"

" I killed her little sister, Prim," he responds blankly. I didn't even know my mother had a little sister.

" And..." I stare at him, expecting an answer.

" Haven't they told you any of this?" he grumbles.

" No," I huff," they haven't."

" Well then," he chuckles, " I probably shouldn't spoil anything."

" Just one more question? Please!" I beg.

" Fine."

" What's up with the check they get every month? What's your name?" I pester him. One question isn't enough. I have thousands, and they flood my thoughts.

" Gale Hawthorne, and as for the checks, well that's an interesting story. Did your parents tell you about the Games?" I nod and he continues, " Anyone who won the Hunger Games received a large check every month from the Capital. When the districts won the rebellion, it was supposed to stop. But the people didn't want it to, at least for your parents. So every month they receive this huge check they probably don't know what to do with."

" How much?"

" Probably a hundred thousand Capitals or so each," he says and my jaw drops open. A hundred thousand Capitals... Well that explains a lot. Some of the venom that came out of kids mouths, why people looked at me strangely when I came back and tried to sell my strawberries. No one took them. I spent a good few hours crying over that. They'd taken the other little girls, but not mine.

" I should get you home, kid," he says after a few moments of silence and I frown in response. Still, I jump down from the branch and start walking alongside him.

" Rosemary!" I hear a shout and suddenly my father has me in his arms. I startle as he breathes in the smell of my hair and holds me close, as if I was the only thing that mattered. Finally he straightens.

" Gale," I hear the surprise in his voice, " what are you doing here?"

" I came back. My sister just got married, so..."

" Well then," my father says quietly. I sense something is up, that my father and Gale don't quite get along anymore.

My mother does not come by. I do not dare to ask why, although I have faint memory of this day being important.

" What day is it today?" I ponder aloud. They both look down. Yes, this day certainly does hold some form of importance, although I can't guess why. It probably has to do with the Games and the war.

We walk in silence, listening as the leaves rustle around us. It's a long walk home, and I spend the whole time lost in thought. There has always been one day of the year my parents cry the most, one day they just can't seem to function right. As much as I despise the secrets and the lies, I just can't shake the feeling that I need to _help. _So I run the last bit home, and fling my shoes off at the door. I find a lump in the covers of my parent's bed, stick my hand under, and fish. I crawl into bed and wrap my arms around my mother, listening to her breath. In. Out. In. Out.

" It's okay," I murmur, rubbing her back, " I love you. I'm here. It's okay," I repeat. We continue like this for hours, roles reversed. Me treating her like a child, her responding like one. I catch a glimpse of my father in the doorway, salty tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes shining with pride.

When I wake up in the morning, stuck between my parents, both of their hands are clutching mine.


End file.
